Quirky Mom, Quirky Family
i’m not in shock. not yet. it will come. as will the tears. but for now, we shall go on. a prediction has been made. it was either stretched so we dont focus on a closer date, or she will blow it out of the water like my pepa did. they told him 3 months, he showed them two years. two terrible, painful years.
so there it is. we will wait to move, but i had planned on that anyway.
I am feeling decidedly selfish. I want my boots. I want my button maker. I want my books (I got some knitting books before all this started, or before it got bad, one of the two). I want I want I want.
She goes in for the treatment this morning. My dad called Dina. They’ve been friends for as long as I’ve been alive. Longer. She called last Tuesday wanting to get together, and the message got lost in the shuffle. I listened today and had an Oh Shit moment and called dad to see if anyone had called her. He said he’d take care of it. I offered to, but he said no.
He spoke with Dr. H this morning, asked him point blank. Dr. H is a friend, not her doctor, but he knows. He said he didn’t want to have this discussion over the phone, but to be short, this month, after the treatment, ought to be great. After that… Well, we’ll have that discussion at lunch today, as he didn’t want to discuss it over the phone.
We got rid of a lot yesterday from storage. Almost all the furniture except the book shelves. We might be able to downgrade to a smaller unit or maybe pack some stuf fup here to get out of the house. There’s too much stuff. Either or I guess.
these are my boots:
and this is my button maker:
and fish got this:
What did I write last? The radiation I think. It’ll be about a 10 minute session it sounds like.
The seizure meds and the steroids and reacting against eachother, so she’s on insulin too, and swollen and red.
There is cancer on her cervical vertibrae. I don’t know what that means yet, I’ve not looked it up. Well, it means the cancer has invaded the bone, so it sucks. Yah, I am back to cancer sucking. Fuck you cancer. It’s funny, the tumors on the brain are the most treatable.
We talked to my grandparents tonight. I’ve been talking in circles to them for days, until we knew what was up and there was something to tell. They took it ok. At least as long as we were there.
They are formulating some massive chemo drugs to put her on next week. Ok, she was on them already, but they are reconfiguring the doses and the types to best do the job without overdoing the job.
Fun times. Yah right.
The stress is wearing on me. Everything the kids do pisses me off, for the past couple of days. I feel awful, but things that normally wouldn’t piss me off are. I know it’s not fair to them, but it’s not coming out anywhere else. I’m trying to write it out instead.
My flirty skirty is coming along nicely. Those nine inches of knit is pretty monotonous, but I’m not doing it all at once, and it’s going faster than I expected. I wont be done it next week, but I should be finished it within the month.
I know I’m forgetting things, but I don’t know what. Mom goes for the rad on Tuesday, and it sounds like she’ll be home on the third or fourth, barring anything weird happening.
We bought an industrial circle punch thing and a button maker, and it comes with enough parts to make 1000 1 1/4 buttons and 1000 1 1/4 magnets. We’ll be making the punkymoms buttons/magnets, since buying this via eBay was a lot cheaper than buying just 250 buttons. Plus we wind up with a button maker!
I also got a cool pair of boots, so yay for that too.
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